Our Princess passed one year ago. While she is mostly known for her role in Star Wars, Carrie Fisher was more than that. Outside of her character, she was a survivor. Carrie was a vibrant, witty, troubled woman who was fighting drug addiction and depression her entire life. A woman who pushed past her problems and made something of herself, instead of succumbing to severely crippling psychological disorders.
I met Carrie once, over a decade ago. Carrie was signing at the Big Apple Convention in NYC and was bored out of her mind. She was cranking out assembly line signatures to fans who were too afraid to say anything to her except, “Thank you,” if they even remembered to do that.
Aware of her fun side, when I got to my place in line, I spoke up.
“Hey Carrie, please sign it to Dr. Pornstar, and write something dirty, too.”
Carrie paused. A smile began to creep over her face.
Her eyes twinkled.
“Mmmmm,” she said, inspiration taking hold.
Below is the result. Thank you, Carrie. Just as you live on in the Last Jedi, you live on in our hearts. You were and still are a beacon of hope.
Andrew E.C. Gaska